


Take the red ones every time

by anchy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2013-11-07
Packaged: 2017-12-31 18:35:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anchy/pseuds/anchy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam finally gets what he's been waiting for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take the red ones every time

The cut on the left side of his stomach started bleeding out a bit, as the sizzling hot water grazed over it. In all the years he’d been doing this, he was able to find the right buttons to push, to keep his body as healthy as a hunter’s ever could. That meant cleaning his wounds as fast as possible, and if alcohol wasn't available, then the next best thing had to do. 

He was a masochist, that much he figured out a while ago, when he realized that the water scorching his skin felt good and got him to relax more than anything ever could. He tried not to give it too much thought, because just trying to say how water that was hot as Hell felt good on him rubbed him the wrong way. He just took it as a given, accepted the light red hue of his skin as a trophy for a day’s good hunt and stopped using his brain, at least while he was in there.

Since there was no alcohol to speak of in the room, it almost stood to reason that Dean would be out too, savaging the neighborhood for a gas station that was still open at this time of night, or at least some place where the lock was easy enough to pick that he could get what he needed, leave the money on the counter, and get back.

It’s a fact Sam knew all too well, and that’s why he didn't feel at all uneasy to walk out of the bathroom naked, his hair still dripping wet despite his best efforts to towel dry it. He gave a good stretch, the last one he knew he could before all his wounds would start popping back open at the slightest movement, cracking a few bones in the process. He picked up the fresh boxers he left on the side of his bed and pulled them on, followed quickly by his jeans. 

Those were still soaked in sweat and distinct drops of blood were still clearly visible on their sides, yet to be covered by dust or dirt. The thoughts of what he did... what they did, came back to him for a moment and he felt he had to sit down. Every now and then there was this one type of critter that really got to him, and he wasn't ashamed to admit that Wraiths scared him. The idea that your brain could get the better of you, make you its bitch, was just one of those things that an all too often possessed Sam couldn't handle anymore.

The sound of a parking Impala glided through the half cracked window and Sam breathed a small sigh of relief that Dean got back okay. He would never admit to doing it, of course, sometimes not even to himself, he realized, as checking for Dean had became a subconscious action a long time ago.

„Hey!” he called out, nodding in Dean’s direction as his brother walked in with two six packs. „Throw me one of those, will ya?”

„What’s with the Playgirl editorial?” his brother asked, walking over to his bed and handing him a bottle, before going to the small fridge to set the morning’s stash for a cool down.

Sam frowned, having forgotten that he never finished dressing and looked down at himself. „Oh. Just took a shower.”

He saw Dean take a bottle out of the pack, twist the cap off and down it to the last drop. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, making one of those small, pleasure filled moans he reserved only for beer. They sent a jolt through Sam every time, but that was just another piece of information shoved down the „never need to talk about this” part of his brain. Like clockwork, he saw his brother take out a second bottle and drink through half of it in one go.The first one was always out of thirst, the second to take the edge off, the third to feel the buzz and the fourth to get tipsy enough so that he could sleep for a couple of hours.

„I’m just gonna go put my shirt on,” he said, as his brother opened the third bottle.

„No, no, you just stay there,” Dean said, a bit too firmly to be dismissed.

„What?”

„I mean, there’s no need to get all dressed up for me,” he mumbled, buying himself some time to think by bringing the bottle to his lips again. „And we’re gonna catch some shut eye in a bit, so what’s the point, you know?”

Sam frowned. Something felt wrong.

„Can I get another one of those?” he asked his brother, kicking his feet up on the bed.

Sam watched as Dean took a second longer than needed to look at his outstretched body before turning around, grabbing another bottle, and personally delivering it to the bedside. His hand, however, hovered just high enough above the bed so that his brother couldn’t reach the bottle form where he was standing.

„Dean, stop being a dick.”

„You want it, you work for it,” he said with a cheeky grin, lifting his arm even higher. Sam just sighed at his brother’s childish behavior.

„You do realize I’m taller than you, right?”

„Not right now you ain’t.”

Within a moment, without putting any thought into it whatsoever, Sam jumped out of the bed and stood up in front of Dean, less than an inch of body space between them. While looking intently into his brother’s eyes he lifted his arm to reach the beer and yanked it out of Dean’s.

Nothing that happened right after made any sort of sense to him. He just felt that Dean’s arms were around his neck, pulling him down enough to kiss properly, pushing their lips together in savage, desperate need, as if suddenly unhinged. 

Sam knew he should pull back. Knew that the only reasonable thing to do was pull away and try to make sense of what just happened, but instead he dropped the beer bottle on the nightstand and leaned in to further the kiss, parting his brother’s lips with his own, pushing his tongue into the inviting warmth that he had dreamt of for so long. Dean let out a small moan and pressed himself flush against Sam’s naked chest as his hands roamed freely against the his brother’s ripped back, prodding every inch of skin available, tugging at the jeans’ edge to try and get even more.

When the smaller man broke the kiss it took all of Sam’s strength not to cry out in displeasure. He had no reason to, however, as he felt a firm hard rest against the center of his chest and with a determined push made him fall back down on the bed. 

„I will not stand on tiptoe for you, Sammy, I just won’t. I have standards.”

Even though he always found the way Dean always had to lift his head to look him in the eye to be amusing and slightly arousing he wasn’t going to play games now what this, for whatever later to be thought of reason, was finally happening . 

There was a glimmer in Dean’s eyes that Sam had never seen before, and was finding himself incapable of reading. As his brother stared at him intently, he felt inexplicably exposed and very explicitly aroused, wondering if he should wait for a sign from him or just keep on doing what they’ve started. 

A dull ache built up between his legs as the seconds passed and Dean made no move either way, as if glued to the spot, and which each passing second Sam’s doubts that this would ever amount to anything increased. With a tentative gaze, but no visual cues from the man standing in front of him, Sam reached his arm out to touch Dean’s hips, still burdened with fabric that should have been long gone. He inched upwards, gliding his fingers between jean and shirt over a small exposed patch of skin and heard his brother’s breath hitch, as more and more skin became exposed to the large exploring hands. He lifted the shirt that was standing in his way, just enough to kiss the inner edge of the ridge of muscle that was languidly collecting downwards in a V. 

He looked up to check for a reaction and saw Dean lick his lips, seconds before his hands reached behind himself and tugged his shirt off in one clean move. The threw it as far away as he could and bent over to to catch Sam’s lips again, pushing both their bodies onto the bed.

It felt rushed and clumsy, the way they clashed together on the mattress, grinding hips like horny teenagers, biting lips and hitting teeth, each trying to get the better of the other, as if it was a contest. 

The moment Dean’s hands started unbuttoned his jeans though, Sam froze mid kiss, holding his brother’s lips hostage as Dean pushed his baby brother’s pants and boxers down just enough for his hand to grab hold of a begging cock.

„You know what they say about guys with big hands, don’t you Sammy boy?” He squeezed the already large half hardened length and pumped it slowly enough to make Sam whimper. „They moan like little bitches in bed.”

As his hand stood still, Sam hips started jerking upwards, trying to get some much needed friction, but Dean put and end to it, removing his hand altogether.

„You always were a selfish little prick, weren’t you?” he muttered while looking into his brother’s eyes, all the while taking his own pants off. He tugged at Sams to move them out of the way completely and spread his brother’s legs enough to get between them. 

When his brother’s dick brushed against his stomach he felt, for a split second, that his arms went numb. The feeling dissipated the moment he felt Dean’s length running along his, warm and slick from precum. He saw Dean bring his hand upward and heard him order.

„Spit.”  
Sam bit the sides of his tongue and obliged his brother, wetting his hand up with saliva. Dean added his own the the mixture and wrapped his extended hand around both their dicks in a tight, wet grip before thrusting forward.

„Dean what are you...what are you doing?”

„I’m jacking us off, Stanford, what does it look like I’m doing?” He kept on moving against Sam and his own hand. „Mind being of some assistance, maybe? Girth seems to run in the family.”

With what may have been mistaken for a prideful look, Sam pushed his hand between their bodies and grasped on top of Dean’s, squeezing his brother’s fingers around their cocks, tensing at the realization that his brother was on top of him, naked, trying his damn best to make both of them cum. 

When he came, it was subdued, accompanied only with a shudder and a soft moan, a few seconds after Dean’s own load coated his belly. He felt sweaty and dirty and happy.

„Dean...” he whispered, trying to catch his breath, trying to figure out how to speak. „Why?”

His brother’s forehead was resting against his chest, eyes shielded from view, his own breath still trying to compensate from the toll his body just took.

„When that Wraith touched me, Sammy, I saw you dead,” his brother’s muffled answer slowly came. „I saw you being ripped to pieces by every single son of a bitch we ever had to deal with and I just... I can’t just live the way we do anymore, where every other week we’re staring a demon in the face, and getting stabbed six ways till Sunday, and not have you know.”

„Know what?”

Dean pushed himself up on his forearms, with a slump in his back that carried all the weight of world and muttered, „That I love you.”

For a moment, in Sam’s eyes, the Earth stood still. There was a faint sound of a sharp exhale, as he took in the words his brother uttered, and processed what this meant. The tears that welled up in his eyes were betraying him intimately, as realization washed over him in a tidal wave of previous experience. He was smart enought to know that he was stupid, but if there was one thing he was an expert on it was Dean Winchester.

„Wh...what did you just say?” he asked, his voice breaking.

„I love you.”

And with that, Sam gave leaned in to give you his brother a kiss. A soft grazing of swollen lips that one so often sees movies, but never in real life. Because real life doesn’t look like this.

„I love you too... but you’re not real.”

Before Dean could even figure out what what going on, Sam reached for the beer bottle on the nightstand, broke it against the wall and stabbed himself in the neck with a shard.

~*~

“Sam…Sammy!”

The weight of his own body became clear to him as his numbed, strained arms, which had held his limp body up for the past day, start hurting again. Physical and worldly, just as he preferred it. With tired, half opened eyes he saw his brother pull out a knife and cut the rope that was keeping him hostage, and while he didn’t expect to tumble forward, Dean was obviously ready and willing to hold him up.

“You’re okay there, buddy. Just stay calm, okay? You lost a lot of blood.”

With the expert technique of someone who had done this far too many times in the past, Dean maneuvered his lanky brother, step by step, like a puppet master, along the sprawled out body of a dead Djinn, all the way through the debris to the Impala. The grey, unsettling, urban landscape that was passing along the edge of his gaze made him think of old factory remains and he tried to remember how he got there in the first place, but his mind was running empty. 

As the polished gleam of their home came into view he almost breathed a sigh of relief, and when Dean opened the back seat door and gently ushered him in he let himself be taken care of.

“Hey, you’re safe now, alright?” 

Sam looked into the concerned green eyes staring at him and thought he saw a spark that wasn’t supposed to be there.

“Are you real?” he mumbled, not trusting his own body to just know the truth.

“Of course I’m real.” Dean said, patting his shoulder, rougher than he would have wanted it, but just as hard as he needed to make sure. 

He smiled, perhaps to show his relief, perhaps to hide his unbearable sadness, and closed his eyes to rest.

“Yeah, you’re real.”


End file.
